


History Repeats Itself

by Conversity



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homecoming, Jim defends him and Spock's love from Sarek, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Possessive Spock, Spock trying to cope with the loss of his mother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conversity/pseuds/Conversity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim spends shore leave with Spock and things get out of hand when Sarek corners him about his intentions with his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Never Be Enough For You

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea after watching "Search for Spock". I know a lot of people think Sarek would have an issue with Jim and Spock bonding and being together, I've read a lot of fics where Sarek is portrayed as the bad guy standing in the way of them being together but I don't think its for the reason everyone assumes. So I hope you enjoy this little look into Jim meeting Spock's father and the troubles that arise. :)

New Vulcan's largest star was setting on the horizon when the Ambassador's dinner guests excused themselves, each thanking Sarek for the meal and saluting with the Ta'al before departing. The entire affair had been three hours of a welcome home get together for Spock, where he could catch up with his father's coworkers and meet the committee which was working on rebuilding Vulcan back to it's honor, but Jim saw it for what it really was, a way to flaunt prospective mates for his son. Of course it wasn't spoken aloud, but he noticed how Sarek kept introducing both daughters and sons of his coworkers to Spock, speaking highly of their accomplishments and fishing for topics on which they agreed and could discuss, all the while leaving Kirk feeling left out as he spoke politely to the dignitaries and fumbled his way through Vulcan conversations. 

Spock had sited need for meditation before disappearing upstairs and part of Jim wished to follow him, to just ignore the way the Ambassador seemed to want to erase him from the house. When they first arrived Sarek made it clear that Jim and Spock would have separate rooms and Spock never initiated any sort of touches, platonic or romantic, while Sarek was home. Jim hadn't minded until dinner, when it seemed Sarek was desperate for Spock to take notice in anyone but Jim and he had had enough. When the last guest left, Sarek turned, eyes knowing and unreadable, and Jim felt like this was now or never. 

"I don't mean to sound rude, Ambassador, but I know what you're doing and I don't like it. We're adults, we should be able to talk about this."

"James, I only endeavor to-"

"Look, I know I'm not the logical choice for Spock. He should be with some high class, full bred Vulcan woman who can give you plenty of decent, 75% Vulcan grandchildren and raise her eye brow at him when he border lines emotional, but I love him and he loves me. You might not think he can feel but he does, and keeping us apart is only going to hurt him."

"I am doing it to protect him!" Sarek's voice was gravely deep; tone slightly raised in a wholly threatening manner that shocked Kirk more than had the elder outright yelled at him. Jim noticed the slight crease of Sarek’s brow, the same wrinkle that the Ambassador got when he was reminiscing something sad, trying hard to make illogical humans understand something too profound for their imaginative, wild brains. And even though his own Spock was too young to show the habit yet, Jim knew what it meant on Sarek, and that alone was enough to stop Jim in his argument, words wedged in his dry throat as he recognized the subtle inkling of emotion in Sarek’s voice.

"I know what it is like to feel great affections toward a human, to try and discover logic in lessons of love. I understand the bond you two share. But think James, though Spock is half human, he inherits an almost fully Vulcan body." Kirk nodded slowly and pursed his lips in a tight line as he gave a parched swallow, trying to understand where this was going. "If my son does not perish in space then he will come home to be ambassador as I have and will die only of old age." 

Sarek paused then, a slight crinkling of his eye brows deceiving a look of worried pain, and Kirk noticed the aching, nervous gesture as Sarek clenched his hands and held his unwavering gaze. "Even if your mental link is strong, you will die before him, some 120 years before Spock. Death shatters bonds in a way that is close to crippling and because Vulcans mate for life, in the end, your departure will only serve to devastate my son.” There was a small pause in which the truth echoed like a hollow, ugly death toll in the silence, and the shadow of sorrow that passed over the older Vulcan’s eyes was more heart breaking than any tear shed could have been. “The loss would make him ache for a century before he can follow you." 

And there it was, the veracity finally set out between them.  
Spock was going to give Jim the best of his years.  
And then mourn his loss until the end of his days. 

"I did not wish to cause you worry nor do I mean to offend but I believe it had to be said.” The room was cold, Jim shivering to keep his breathing normal in the face of adversity, but his stomach kept roiling and clenching painfully, sickened as the elder continued. “I understand what it is like to lose my beloved so early in life.” Sarek dipped his head in a moment of weakness that Jim knew was only privy to him because Sarek saw him as family and he suddenly wished he could reach out and comfort the elder somehow. 

The older Vulcan took a controlled, centering breath before he continued. “I find myself plagued still at the emptiness her severed tie has left in our bond even after immense meditation. It is the price I must pay for choosing emotions over logic, and I will bear those repercussions loyally until my dying breath.” 

And suddenly Jim saw that Spock wasn’t only a deep, complicated Vulcan with grand spectrums of emotions constantly plaguing him because he had human genes. No, all Vulcans were fighting at their own self-imposed embarrassment over their ‘illogical’ feelings. And Sarek, a Vulcan whose body and soul had appeared icy and stoically immovable to Kirk, was feeling guilt. 

Sorrow.  
Loneliness.

Sarek gathered a strength in himself he once thought had been distinguished and raised his grave gaze to the human who was falling apart in front of his very eyes. “But I do not wish this upon my son. Not when I know his vivid human feelings will ache him even more in your older years. He will only be middle age when you are elderly, he will be loyal to a fault, will nurse you in your sickness. As a Vulcan, he will mediate and suppress his sadness and as a human it will eat him alive." The expression delicately marring his dignified features was close to what Kirk thought might be sympathy, or misery, maybe even grief.

"And you were incorrect in your assumption that you would be an ‘illogical choice’ as a bond mate for my son.” Jim’s heart felt heavy as it clenched painfully, his throat too dry and eyes stinging with his swallowed tears to say anything in the silence granted. “But I do not want him to suffer as I do." The sentence was like the last nail in a coffin as Sarek departed swiftly with his hands clasped tightly together behind his back, proud shoulders wilting just a bit as his head tipped down in a form of submission, looking like Spock does after he informs families about their loved one who had died in the line of duty, looking like a man with the weight of the world smothering him. 

\---------------------------------

There was an emptiness that echoed uncomfortably in the house, something hollow and barren sweeping invisibly over the wood and faux leather furniture, and even though Spock knew it was because his mother was gone, and in turn had taken a lot of the light and easiness of living with her, he constantly found himself illogically trying to fill the void. 

He set the tea pot on to boil every time he walked through the kitchen and opened the curtains to let in the light of New Vulcan’s brightest sun as it neared noon, the other, smaller star just now beginning to peak over the horizon in a beautiful mesh of golds, oranges, and fiery reds of a second sunrise. 

He requested for Sulu to send the pots of desert roses they had cultivated in the labs, breeding them for arid climates and harsh light conditions without sacrificing the elegance and loveliness of their soft petaled blooms, and he placed them on the tables and the bar, on each dresser in the rooms, and watered them religiously before their leaves drew up and curled. And even though Spock caught his father’s quiet, disapproving eye brow raises and forgiving tired sighs, he couldn’t find it in him to stop. 

Because something wasn’t right.

Almost like each room was out of kilter, the world a fourth degree off balance as he wandered the familiar hallways and, yet, felt like stranger among the dust motes dancing in the rays of light bent through the windows. Swallowing thickly as he tried to add the right doses to spice the tea like he had tasted in his youth, Spock wondered if he should try and tend a garden like his mother once had when she was upset. It was with a swift clench in his side that he remembered this home, no matter how exactly tailored like the one on his old planet, had not one touch of his Mother’s love. 

\----------------------------

Jim secretly adored Spock and his slowly grieving heart as he caught him occasionally, the captain beaming fondly as he watched his stoic first officer take the twisted thorn stem in a careful hold and bend his nose to the blossom, eyes closed and the softest of smiles catching on his lips as he breathed in the scent of home, of sweet spring life, of a mother.

But now Jim couldn’t find Spock anywhere in the house today as he frantically searched, his hands faintly shaking as he swallowed around the lump in his throat, tongue feeling cotton dry and heavy as he peeked into the sitting room and hoped to find his boyfriend lounging on one of the hand-woven papasans. ‘Where the hell did you go?’ he wondered with a nervous swipe of a hand through his hair, as he turned about and stalked toward the curtains shading the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, grasping the sheer fabric a bit roughly as he wrenched them open.

And there he was.

The half-Vulcan was faced away from him, the line of his strong shoulders clear even in the folds of his dark meditation robes. With each well evened breath, Kirk could make out the rise and fall of his mate’s shoulder blades, the desert breeze picking up a bit, gently mussing Spock’s hair, the edges of his robe catching on the wind as well. But amongst the movement of the world around him, Spock’s mind felt constant, unwavering and well centered against Kirk’s as the human shyly pressed on the focused waves of fluent mantras, waking his bond-mate subtly. 

Spock turned, eyes reflecting the lowest sun’s warm rays, and outstretched a hand to beckon for his mate to join him, his mind now an electric, even current of affection and devotion which never failed to excite Kirk and make him melt. 

He took no time in sliding the door open and making his way to Spock’s side, returning the mental caresses with thankfulness, being careful to press the troubled thoughts of his and Sarek’s talk into a coffin in the locked and curtained closets of his mind, focusing mostly on the way Spock’s expression was open and clear, more so than usual, his color healthily glowing in the heat of the dying summer. He looked content, happy, if not a bit tired as he relaxed his shoulders and dipped slightly in posture as Kirk settled at his side and Spock rested his chin on his shoulder, lips dangerously close to his ear. 

“Jim.” He breathed in his scent and Kirk felt the strange shimmer of pleasure that lit his nerves every time his boyfriend lapsed into the warm, palpable mix of human and alien affections. “I did not mean to hide from you.” Kirk felt the pause be filled with a sleepy breath and grinned as Spock nuzzled at the soft skin of his neck. 

Jim wrapped an arm around his bonded’s shoulders and pressed him closer, loving the easy way they fit together. “I totally get it, you needed some alone time.” The unspoken truth that he understood how it was to come home to a house that felt unrecognizable and the strength that came from meeting the eyes of those who wouldn’t mourn blanketing them as they basked in the sudden, cooling breeze. 

Kirk had almost drifted to sleep in those long, indulgent moments of sweet peace when Spock’s voice quietly roused him with the astute observation of “You spoke with my Father recently.” His voice didn’t betray worry or a drop of concern but there was something shadowed in his eyes as he searched Jim’s face for an inkling of information. 

Jim was a bit unsettled by that, his courage splintering as the parental conversation reeled fresh in his mind, Sarek’s cold voice echoing the awful and blatant truth like the clock that tolled midnight before Cinderella’s coach turned back into a pumpkin. And with a huff of anxious laughter at that comparison, he turned his head and stole a brave kiss, his lips soft, tongue shyly tasting the seam of Spock’s before the two of them fell into the delicate leisure of human affections, though Jim’s free hand sought Spock’s and tangled their fingers, his callused thumb grazing the ridges of the half-Vulcan’s knuckles as he pressed heady, erotic intentions through his touches. Eyes half mast, he pulled away and marveled at the glazed, fathomless look his mate was giving him.

“Come back inside the house.” Jim tried to coax in his husky, low voice, but even as his strong fingers gripped teasingly at the short hairs at the base of Spock’s neck, his First Officer seemed to catch something in his Captain’s expression and raised an obstinate eyebrow. 

“Jim, you are exhibiting avoidance behaviors.” He chided softly as they shared the same air, his conscious grasping at Jim’s mind and turning it over in his hands like it was an opaque, smoke filled gazing ball. Sensing Jim’s trepidation he nudged reassuringly, lips pressing firmly at the corner of Kirk’s self-conscious smile. “He did not upset you did he?” 

“No.” Kirk answered a bit too hastily, earning himself another questioning eye brow tick. “I mean, we just talked about a few things, that’s all.” He tried to laugh it off, but the apprehension roiling off him triggered something in Spock, and soon Kirk found himself being nudged by strong hands on his chest, turning in the insisting grasp as he was pressed against the glass door, a pair of darkened eyes sharply trying to find signs of truth. 

“I have read in my Father an odd expression I have yet to determine…” the reflective pause was internally focused, as if Spock was recalling every single lapse of Vulcan perfection and setting each side by side for comparison. But in an undetermined instant, every fiber of focus was on Jim again, eye brows slightly furrowed. “He is not one to hold back judgment and I am afraid that he may have upset you with his unrelenting views. Please, Jim, if he has said something-“

“Spock, sweetheart, it’s nothing like that. I’ve had a lot worse parental talks, believe me; at least he didn’t pull a loaded shotgun on me….” Kirk grinned a bit ashamedly at the shaken memory of waking up at Jennifer Taften’s house at the wild age of 16, her six foot four father home early and pressing the barrel coldly at Jim’s throat as Jennifer pleaded that they hadn’t done anything.

Spock’s eyes creased in that clipped, irritated way they always did when Jim remembers his old affairs, a cold ribbon of jealousy passing over Spock’s mind and Jim tried hard to amend it with a warm smile. “They all meant nothing, you know that.” 

He softly took Spock’s hands and felt the bond hum happily in response, the golden thread twisting intimately as they drew their foreheads together. “My Father may not have threatened you with ancient Terran weaponry but that does not mean he has not slighted you in some way.”

And when Jim Kirk looked at that softened, determined expression he knew he was loved.  
This was the man that had brutally beaten Khan, had pressed Jim dangerously close to his own death, bent over that switchboard on the bridge, and now Spock’s eyes held that same passionate fire, turned inward on himself, fighting the old Vulcan laws that saw same sex couples was an illogical waste when propagating one’s race was perceived as the highest of accomplishments in life, struggling to help fit Jim into the stringent practices that demanded emotional control. 

In that instant, Jim saw what Sarek had been talking about. Spock looked at him like he was the sun, like Jim was worth denouncing a part of himself and setting aside personal principles in order to love him.  
And for what in return? 

Jim couldn’t give him kids, hell, didn’t even know if he wanted to ever have an adopted child or two running underfoot, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be there to tend to Spock when he was old and sick and in need of help. He was going to walk down the aisle and promise to love this man ‘Until death do we part’, and that was going to be sooner than Jim admitted was fair to his fiancé. 

And what about when Jim was gone? 

Spock looked misplaced and almost heartbreakingly confused as his mate suddenly closed his mind to him and then pulled back from their gentle proximity, his callused hands grabbing onto Spock’s robe covered wrists and uncurling himself so he could stand. Jim looked blurred at the edges, eyes holding a shaken element that threatened to spill in a sudden, and to Spock, unbidden reaction. 

“I need a moment-“ He reasoned a bit hastily and hauled opened the glass door, not even having time to shut it as he escaped into the twisting halls of Spock’s house. 

Their bond was awash with conflicting emotions as Jim tried to control himself, feeling altogether foolish and childlike as he turned a corner and disappeared out the front door. He stumbled a bit in the tricky sand as it gave way underfoot, in such a fashion unlike the clay like, harder soils Vulcan had originally been, and tries to righten his conscious, throwing a haphazard glace over his shoulder. 

But Spock wasn’t going to follow him. And even with his mind distant and closed to is bond-mate, Jim knew Spock had no doubt where he was going to seek refuge. 

Because there was only one other Vulcan on this planet, was only one other friend in which Jim could hide his fears and sorrows.


	2. At Least I'll Have This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim seeks out Spock Prime in the hopes of gaining answers and of course he doesn't disappoint.

Jim shifted beneath the gaze, his fingertips pressing into the warm sides of his tea cup, lips drawn thin in thinking. Maybe he shouldn't have come here.

Had he been the other Kirk, mused Spock Prime, he may have swiped the tip of his tongue over his lips, eyes flitting in deep thought, but he wasn't and didn't. Instead, the young man drew a hand through his messy bangs, mouth gaping a few times as if to test the words that were jumbled in his mouth.

"Is something the matter?" and Ambassador Spock had to swallow heavily over the lump in his throat that presses him to fondly call the man sitting across the table 'Jim'.

"Sometimes you look at me like you're surprised." And that was all the Captain had said as he took a gulp of tea to fill the space of an awkward pause. "I mean, it's nothing really, just odd. I don't know." This Kirk is unsure of himself; the Ambassador can read it in the way he shifts his body in the chair and ducks his eyes away from him when he tries to hold his gaze. Spock gently attempts not to feel the pang in his chest at Jim's avoidance, and works even more not to let it show in his time worn eyes.

"I don't mean to give such an impression." He answers carefully. "It is just-"

"I bet I look a lot like him, huh?" Jim interrupts in an embarrassed accident and is quite for a beat, hesitantly trying to decipher the emotions on the ancient Vulcan's face. "The other Kirk, I mean." He amends softly when the Elder doesn't respond right away.

Spock nods slowly, eyes clouding for the breath of a second before his eye brows raise truthfully, evenly. "Yes, very much. There are, of course, differences, but you are like a shadow of my Jim." And there it was; the raw, real emotion tucked away, the truth hidden in plain sight. It takes Kirk aback as he sets down his tea and places his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, coaxing for more, eager to hear about the man that had changed Spock into...what exactly?

'Into a man that would die for him, that glows like then sun when he talks about his captain.' Jim thinks.

"But you are not the same. I know this. Your eyes are irradiated blue, hair tousled, personality a bit twisted from his. But sometimes if I look close enough, just for a split second, I see him in you, so clearly and it..." Spock let the idea hang unfinished in the weighted silence, and if he's waiting for Jim to finish the sentence or to find whatever he meant himself, Spock isn't sure. Instead, he ducks his head and stares deeply into the depths of his tea, almost afraid to lift his eyes and have a pair of young blue ones meet his own instead of the smile creased hazel to which he had grown so accustomed.

"I do not think you came here to discuss my life."

Jim gives a gusty sigh as he leans back into his chair, looking pained and exhausted in a way Spock is frighteningly unfamiliar with.

"Sarek said some things about my relationship with Spock and it made me rethink some stuff."

"My own Father was hesitant at the time of our bonding to accept James but I do not believe he ever voiced such opinions openly." The Elder Spock knotted his fingers in front of him and kept his face neutral. "Though, my Father did not lose my Mother until after our bonding. It is perhaps his own emotions of sudden loss which have caused this outburst."

"He told me he didn't want Spock to mourn for me until the day he died." Jim's whispered honesty surprised Spock, who never weighed his father's opinion of his mating choices against his own decision, and not for the first time he's a bit envious of his younger counterpart.

"Every parent's wish is for their child to be happy, Jim. I believe it is his emotionalism which is blinding him. Sarek is angry that he chose a human mate who has passed before him and the resulting loneliness is seen as avoidable had he instead wed a Vulcan. Illogical as it is, I think Sarek intends to protect Spock, who he's witnessed struggle with emotions for quite some time, from feeling that chaos." Spock Prime set his tea aside on the table and stood, his robes crinkling as he moved across to the leather chair Jim was curled in, and kneeled before him.

Jim stared down at Spock, taking in the soft creases of his face, his dark eyes familiar and warm. He was struck with how this was the only way he'd see Spock grow old.

"Jim, I will say that in many ways my counterpart and I are different. But there is one constant in the universe in which I hold no doubt. I loved James Tiberius Kirk then and Spock loves you now. That will never change."

Jim grit his teeth against the hot press to cry, and instead asked, "But what about later? All you have is this empty house-" But before he could continue, Spock's hand was against his face, cold and incessant as his fingers caught his psi-points.

The rest was a flurried meld both comfortable and yet shockingly dissimilar.

In snapshots of vision he found himself watching a man, who had to have been his counterpart, standing in a dark tux with a yellow rose boutonniere pinned at his lapel, smiling up radiantly, and it was Spock's voice, young and deep, which told him, "This was our wedding."

The feelings of happiness and satisfaction and joy were all twined with the man before him, the color of his hair, the smile around his eyes, and the press of his thumbs against Spock's palms. They were the colors of the stain glass surrounding them, the thunderous clapping of their family and friends, and the taste of home when Jim stood on tip toe to kiss him.

The rest of the memories moved too fast to comprehend fully, the pictures disappearing before the feelings could catch up to coincide, but Jim saw everything. The home they shared, their quarters on the enterprise, trying to mediate together, reading side by side, fear as one of them was in danger, seven years of waiting for this heated moment, pleasure at their coupling, retirement, Jim getting slower with age, waving away Spock's help, and then the moments stopped, and the meld sparked as it ended.

Jim's lungs heaved as he brought his wrists to his eyes to wipe at the errant tears, the nakedness of Spock Prime's emotions in front of him more intimate than anything he'd ever imagined, but felt a laugh bubble in him. Because when Spock looked back at the memories, as if flipping through a photo album, he wasn't sad.

"Why would I be unhappy when my bondmate gave me the greatest life imaginable?" Spock asked, quirking his eye brow and Jim laughed out loud at that. "You do not need to worry yourself over what lies ahead. I did not watch my Jim die of old age and there are still incalculable ways that the universe could separate the two of you. As a friend of mine said, 'Love anyway. For at least you would have that in the end.'"

"Did that friend have a southern accent and a penchant for being a doctor not a missile technician?"

"I believe he was also not a bricklayer, moon shuttle conductor, and escalator."

And Jim found himself laughing so hard that it surprised a small smile from Spock as he stroked a thumb over Jim's hand.


	3. I Never Knew and I'll Never Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock has a little moment with his father and Jim gets a deeper look into what's been bothering his bondmate.

"It's two doses of honey."

The answer broke the silence, startling Spock, Sarek's usual sharp tone suggesting exhaustion, maybe even exasperation in his own, repressed way.

Spock's eyebrow flicked up, voice caught between the loneliness he felt at Jim's sudden departure and the warm, conflicted elation he sensed in the bond.

"Your mother always added two doses of honey at the bottom of the cup. That's what your attempt is missing." At his blatant observation Spock felt the heat of embarrassment surge over him. "You've been boiling water and stirring in cinnamon and vanilla all the while sipping a few times and leaving it to cool. It is wasteful. So I am giving you the secret, she always added honey."

The tenor might have sounded bitter and cold to outsiders, and a petty part of Spock wanted to take the words in that sense and bite back at his Father, but he didn't, because he knew Sarek spoke the truth. And, in that, he heard sorrow.

Spock simply nodded in consideration and opened the cupboard to find the jar of preserved honey. He measured out two careful spoonfuls, watching with faux interest as the golden syrup slowly ribboned from the spoon to settle thickly at the bottom of the cup, before pouring the steaming water over the tea leaves. At once he noticed the shift in scent, his father's stiff form relaxing minutely beside him as the liquid in the cup grew dark and rich in color, the silver spoon handle cool as Spock stirred.

"Thank you." He offered Sarek the first cup and the tended to his own.

"Thanks are illogical. I thought you would have been able to notice its absence," was all he said before taking a long, slow sip, his eyes closed, face looking younger as Spock stole a glance from the corner of his gaze.

"The Captain would better like the tea, I presume." Sarek had never tried to coax small talk before and the resulting awkward silence between them was expected. For a while, there was the soft noise of tea sipping and long inhales of sweet steam. "His palate would enjoy the flavor honey adds to the bitterness of the leaves." All Spock could find the strength to do was nod along in answer, because at the first taste of the tea he felt conflicted.

His mind reveled in the familiar memories created by the cold china pressed against his lips, the steam on his nose when he tipped the cup, his rippled reflection in the dark liquid, the taste reminding him of his mother and her own warmth and image of him in her eyes.

But in a twisted, dark disloyalty it brought to light something he never thought possible. That he would be able to move on from her death, the world could function without her. She took with her his entire reality the day she fell from the precipice of Gol, yet here he was without her, drinking her tea, living in the house, his father mourning quietly at his side.

The making of the tea was a curse and a blessing, proving the fact in an unfair, wicked way. There was a raw wound and you could stitch it up.

After a few more long moments, Sarek drained the last of his tea, chewing the leaves as was tradition, and set his glass aside to be washed. He pondered if it would be practical to stay with Spock, even if he could sense his son's anguish and probably wished to be left alone. Vulcans rarely wanted company when their shields were compromised. And yet Sarek felt like Spock was a child again, needing his comfort and validation to guide him back to propriety. He turned to say something, though he hadn't quiet formed the words yet, and Spock set his cup in the wash basin, tea leaves gathered wetly at the bottom.

"I will meditate while Jim is out."

"That is wise." Sarek said, pushing the illogical pang of inadequacy as a parent out as a sigh. But before Spock swept out of the kitchen, Sarek continued, "Jim is a man of many feelings." His words surprised himself and they made Spock whip around, body stiff. "You have never made a decision in error before and I believe your choice of him as a bondmate is most logical." He noticed that Spock's shoulders drooped as if Sarek had taken the weight from them, his laryngeal prominence bobbing as he swallowed.

"Thank you," Spock said, eyes lost as he perused his father's features, looking to read a lie in him.

"As I have said, thanks are illogical."

\--------------------------------------------------------

It was just as Vulcan's second sun dipped beyond the sand dunes that Jim typed in the key code, requesting access into the house. He set his shoes down by the door and padded through the wooden halls in his socks, silent as he peeked into the computer room, the kitchen, living area, and gardens, finding nobody. Sarek usually worked on ambassadorial reports before his evening mediation, locked in his private rooms upstairs, but these last few days Spock hadn't shown any kind of schedule one would expect from a Vulcan. He mediated at odd intervals, something that Jim only recognized because he could feel Spock's katra grow increasingly tired and restless only for Spock to persist on with whatever he was caught up in. He ate meals with Jim but showed no real appetite, and more often than not, it was Jim pulling him out of bed before midday arrived, afraid they'd waste their time on Vulcan.

The behavior was worrying, except Spock would never admit to anything being wrong if Jim decided to bring the matter up.

Jim stalked into their shared bedroom, grinning impulsively because Spock was kneeling on his mediation mat and Jim could finally fix everything from before.

Except the braid of their bond trembled in fear at the sight of his mate, the phantom pain of Spock's chaos roiling within him like a bitter storm. It didn't take a second thought to bridge their distance in three quick strides, but he was conflicted on what to say.

The silence didn't bother Jim as much as he thought it should and it was in the space of where words should have been that he instinctually pressed up against Spock and brought his arms around him, hands gripping strongly at the fabric of Spock's black meditation robe. He could feel the tension in the half Vulcan's shoulder blades, the muscles quivering, and could swear he heard the faint hummingbird speed of Spock's heart in his side. As Jim pressed his face to Spock's shoulder and took in a deep breath, he could almost taste the sadness.

"I'm right here," Jim said deliberately, planting his willingness out in the open for the first and last time. Because both of them knew this offer would last for as long as they were living. Spock gripped hard at Jim in return; his soft cries no more than deep, hitched breathing as he tried to swallow down everything building in him.

With a soft pressure, Jim pressed his fingertips into the rigid muscle in his back and drew slowly away, his hands ghosting over the curves of his hips and finally grasping at Spock's elbows so he could pull his arms away. "Take what you need."

And it was then that Spock did the worst thing.  
He didn't turn on Jim with lust in his watery eyes, didn't push him onto the bed and filter his frustrations through sex. No, those would have been answers Jim could handle.

Instead, Spock brought his hands up to Jim's and tangled their fingers; his head bent shyly to hide his glistening eyes, and then slowly pressed Jim's palms to his cheeks. They were wet and flushed a soft green from his efforts of shielding and masking, the feeling foreign and heart breaking as Jim tried to press on the soft psi points to convey comfort and waves of protection the way he knew calmed his bondmate.

When Jim coaxed him expectantly to the bed, Spock laid on his back and pulled Jim to settle over him, legs bent around Jim's waist, hands wrapped under Jim's arms; his tears hidden in the soft, warm comfort of Jim's throat.

Kirk swallowed thickly and cradled the half Vulcan to him, knowing his weight was nothing to the man beneath him, his lips pressing dryly, chastely to his hair and the tips of his flushed ears. He wanted to whisper "It's ok" but knew it was a lie. He wanted to give a genuine smile and promise "Things will get better" but he couldn't even believe himself when he thought the ideas. Because at least he had never known any kind of parents' love, the death of his father and the absence of his mother manifesting as numbness and desperate attempts to make up for it in strangers.

But what was it like to suddenly have one of the only people in the entire universe who loved you, really love in that unconditional, no questions asked, you look in their eyes and you just know, kind of love, to no longer be there? For Spock, the wound was carved deeper than any human's paltry loss, the cutting of his mother's bond from his own psyche comparable to losing a limb. Jim understood how it hurt when Spock erected the wall between their bond, so he knew he would never be able to fathom the severing of ties that close and hard foraged.

Spock needed comforting in a way Jim wasn't versed.  
This wasn't the kind of sadness that booze and women and a night of forgetting could ever heal.

Kirk swallowed his uneasiness and tried to pass every thought he had to Spock. Every 'I love you' and 'I'm not going anywhere', every image of them in the last few days being so romantically domestic, the familiarity coming as easily as breathing. With sure fingers he reached for Spock's hand and brought the knuckles to his lips, tring to show he was serious about this. He would help however Spock needed.

The last rays of New Vulcan's second sun disappeared in a lovely haze of violet sky and candied cotton clouds by the time Spock spoke up, his lips quivering wetly against Jim's shoulder in a whisper. "I never told her I loved her."

The statement was like a sledgehammer to the lake of glass Jim had been standing on.

Both didn't dare move then, their chests coming together in one breath as Kirk found a splintered voice and spoke the best he could with unsteady words.

"Spock, that..." he gave a heavy sigh and shifted slightly, their surface meld feeling as if Jim was unhappy with him, disgusted at his display and horrified this confession. But he silenced the swelling fears of rejection and nuzzled Spock's shoulder in a manner he hoped was reassuring on a base level, taking Spock's face in his gentle hands.

"Look at me," he pressed their foreheads together and gave a twitch of a smile at the electric buzz of comfort between them. At that spark Spock raised his gaze from Jim's collar bone. "People who love you don't need to be told because they can feel it. I didn't get to meet your mom but from the memories you've shared in the melds and from the way Sarek looks in the holo-pics on the walls, she must have been someone who loved life with everything she had and adored her family more than anything in the known universe. She could feel it in your bond that you cared for her and she could see it in your eyes. I know I can. And I know you feel like saying it out loud would have meant coming to terms with your human half, meant you could give her that one thing, but Spock, every day you looked at her and raised your eyebrow in those subtle ways…I know she knew it, she saw it, and she couldn't love you more. Don't ever doubt that."

Spock's eye brows drew up in sadness; the glisten of tears lining his eyes as he pressed their noses side by side and felt the edges of their lips brush as he cried. The truth in Jim's words ached heavily, deep in his chest, and a part of him felt liberated at the knowledge, like a veil had been pulled from his eyes. He kissed Jim once, soft, barely there, before he pulled away and pressed his mate against him again. A primal part of the bond told Jim to protect and hide and cherish, so he curled closer to him, snaked his arms up between the fabric of Spock's robe so he could feel the cool brush of his skin, and breathed in slow and deep, ready to sleep for as long as Spock needed to settle his bruised mind and broken barriers.


	4. Out of My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's mind is in possession of a few thing which aren't his, and Spock must reconsider what it means to take him as a life mate.

Jim is dosing somewhere in that numb, fuzzy place between sleep and consciousness, his ears picking up the sounds of the air coolant system humming and Spock’s gentle purrs beneath his cheek. He peeks an eye open and grins against the silk robe. Spock’s hair is disheveled, his severe expression melted with his exhaustion, and there’s a flush high on his sharp cheeks that Jim suspects would taste akin to the apples he had picked in his grandmother’s orchard one summer. All at once, Jim feels the light that his meld with Elder Spock had glimpsed at.  


The tension in him diffuses as Jim shifts his stiff muscles, smoothing his legs against his bond mate’s and reveling in their entanglement. He attempts not to grind into Spock too much as he pops the vertebrae in his back with a subtle body roll but the Vulcan feels him move and, on instinct, passes his fingers over Jim’s cheek, soothing him with waves of loving contentedness. It’s the sort of action that makes Jim’s heart squeeze in his chest and he can’t help but take one of the fingertips between his lips, pressing lightly with his teeth and tongue. The reaction is instant as Spock’s chest vibrates with another deep purr, pressing the pad of his finger firmer against Jim’s mouth.  


Jim withdraws before Spock wakes entirely, laughing as Spock’s thumb presses against his slick lips before combing through his hair and clawing lightly down his back. His nails leave delicious marks that make Jim hiss and stop his teasing as Spock’s consciousness blinks on like Christmas lights. Jim doesn’t want to interrupt Spock sleeping, not after the dizzying emotional array they had yesterday, even if it might mean a round of rough, ‘I’m in control’, pressing Jim into the sheets like it’s his Time, kind of love making.  


Instead, he settles into the cradle of Spock’s body and pushes all the air out of his lungs, his next breath long and clean. Their bond is still unsettled when he presses at it, but the torrents of Spock’s neglect where smooth after his tears last night. It also didn’t hurt that they had slept for almost eight hours, much longer than Spock’s usual stints of napping and mediation. He’s so relaxed that his katra was threading into Jim’s own harried mind, licking at the wounds Sarek had left and jealously spearing at where Spock Prime had helped soothe him. It wasn’t long before Jim felt the compulsion to join his mate in sleep, the sensation slipping over him like a balmy, thick breeze.  


\------------------------------------  


“James?”  


Jim cringed at his full, first name, a sure sign he was in trouble. When he opened his eyes, though, it wasn’t his scowling mother or the board of admirals that he usually dreamed about, but a woman he can’t quiet name, smiling at him. She was like a mixed drink, one part familiar, two parts mystery and oddly enough something about her smile quieted the anxious bubbles in his stomach.  


He gave a tentative wave back, unsure of what to say, and distractedly looked around at the garden they were standing in. Rose thorns caught at his jeans, the curled tendrils of vines climbing the white thatch trellises that squared the garden away from the vast, arid plains beyond. The plants were vibrant, fresh, and green against the dry desert, refreshing in a way that made Jim miss Earth with an unquenchable thirst.  


But that feeling dissipated as soon as the woman stepped toward him, her eyes crinkling with a smile. She waved for him to join her by the tall patch of sunflowers proudly shading her in the corner. Their leaves were shriveled at the edges, no doubt thirsty from this blistering Vulcan heat, and yet Jim didn’t feel the usual prick of sweat at his forehead or bare neck.  


Nor did he feel the wind as it rustled the thick stalks, or the human man that bumped his shoulder with his own. Jim turned at the flash of the man’s smile and the sight of his Prime, his other, older self, startled him so thoroughly that he made an odd, shrill sound in his throat, disrupting the scene as it snapped off, as if a light switch had been flipped, and he opened his eyes.  


Spock was above him, eyes wide and searching as he swallowed, breathless, mouth dry, eyes wet.  


“What was-?” Jim tried to force the question into words but the bond twisted sickeningly, gagging him with Spock’s grief and disbelief. Neither said anything, the space filled with searching the other for answers. The stretch of silence solidified a tangible fear around them, until finally Spock loosened his hold on Jim and trusted his words.  


“What did you see?” he demanded, but Jim knew that they had experienced the same vision. That’s how melds worked. Or at least…he thought that had been a meld?  


“No. That was a memory,” Spock corrected, breathing evening, eyes skirting around the room to avoid his mate’s confusion beneath him. Jim drew his hands up to Spock’s face, slow as not to startle him, and let his thumbs draw away the moisture on his green cheeks. Next, Jim trailed his fingertips down the sinew of his neck, and finally gripped his tight shoulders.  


He might not yet be proficient enough in telepathy to read anything from his shielding bond mate, but Jim knew his touch would calm whatever had been unsettled.  


Spock’s shoulders lost their sharpness beneath Jim’s gentle hands, but instead of letting his human take his weight, he rolled away and stood, heading for the door with a slight murmur of “I require meditation,” as his departing words.  


It wasn’t a lie, but something about how he used it as an excuse churned his stomach, heart clenching in his side. Spock knew what he had seen. The woman, her eyes creased with years, hair greying, curled. Jim, with his own youth just out of reach, stocky and humbled with Admiralty. Even though it was reminiscent of a premonition, Spock felt what humans often referred to as seeing a ghost.  


It was with his legs folded beneath him, rewinding the dream like it was super eight film footage, frame by frame, that Spock began to let the terrible, gnawing feelings trickle in. First, the recognition that Jim somehow had a memory of his mother, of Amanda, in his brain and second, that the memory was most likely one of many that he shouldn’t be in possession.  


The truth was evident. Spock Prime had meddled inside of Jim’s mind, leaving behind the traces of a life that now plagued the human psyche.  


The chronometer read five minutes past six in the morning, and his Prime was no doubt at the Embassy, overseeing mission briefings. Until he could be reached, there was nothing to do but but shield Jim from the encroaching maelstrom of illogical emotions; fear, confusion, and at the forefront of anger at the very thought of Spock Prime ruining this for him with a slight oversight of cerebral details. He pinched at the electrical wires that threaded the bond between himself and Jim, numbing their connection, and resided himself to sift through the fluency of mathematical equations to compose himself.  


Back in the other room, Jim clenched his fingers in the sheets and tried to grasp at the tendrils of the dream, a color, the face of the woman, anything that would give him a clue on how he’d upset Spock.  


The bed was now empty and cold, but the place in Jim’s mind where he usually felt Spock’s thoughts was colder still.


End file.
